Medical-Center Farce
by Octoya
Summary: What some members of the troupe in Evils Theater did not consider is that human beings have different biology from that of Awakened Vessels. After Gammon catches Gula, there's a scramble to get him the medicine he needs before their Gardener passes away. Unfortunately for him, there's some members who would like to have a fresh Gammon-corpse for supper. Rated T for gore.
1. A Cough

_Today, again, the food stores were being depleted at an astonishing rate. _

_Since it was already a hassle to get him this food in the first place, it was certainly bad to have to replace it so soon._

_He sat at the table gnawing on a leg of meat. He didn't know where the leg came from, although it was a bird._

_Beside the table there was only the Waiter tapping her foot anxiously._

_He kept eating._

_Dark circles and a pale face made him almost look like he was wearing makeup._

"_Hey, you look really bad," the spoiled girl had an unusually agitated face._

_So he put his head on the table and started to shiver, his body covered in a sheen of sweat._

_He didn't move from there._

* * *

From the following evening, the sorceress woke up at her desk, wearing her previous clothes and only her monocle put aside. On the surface was an unfinished script, which was still missing its music.

Come to think of it, the Gardener was in charge of adding the music when he wasn't giving details.

Looking over, his notes were in the chair next to her.

Ma picked up the script with a raised brow; they were also unfinished.

_Well, we were all up late yesterday. _

The newest screenplay had caused a lot of ruckus for the theater, when that Waiter had thrown a fit at the screen. It was almost impossible to calm her down.

Ma smiled and shook her head. Well, that had been an interesting show.

With a yawn, she put her glass back on and took a look at what still needed to be finished. Wherever Gammon had gotten off to, she would have to go fetch him again. She didn't want to wait for her newest production.

Downstairs, it seemed to be a little noisy again...

The shrill servants were calling for her. "Sorceress! Sorceress!"

"Sorceress"

"Where are you~~"

"At this moment~~"

They even ran past Ma before catching sight of her.

To them she only gave a smile. "Hmm?"

The two of them grabbed her sleeves like children, and to her questioning glance they only began to drag her along. "It's the Gardener"

"It's the Gardener again"

"Oh?"

To her knowledge, that person had been alright since yesterday. But she let them take her out of the theater and into the graveyard. Nearby there was the Garden, and in the Garden was a man with long dark hair. Gammon, she could see. Their Gardener.

Only, today he was eating the roses off of their bush, twisting them off their stems.

For Ma, the previous Gardener, it was an irritating sight. "Hey! I worked hard on those!"

Without the twins she ran forward and Gammon looked up with petals in his mouth.

His fingers were bleeding from the thorns, and there was a sheen of sweat on his face.

"Eh?" He mumbled.

Ma came and knocked the rose out of his hand.

"What do you think you're doing?! Don't you have better things to do than give yourself stomach pains?"

Gammon's eyes did not look at her. They seemed out of focus.

"…I think so?"

"Idiot!" Coming through the fence, the sorceress began to quickly attend to the battered rosebush. She pushed the Gardener aside, and he nodded while nibbling his finger.

The servants approached. "He's been like that"

"All morning"

"He ate all his food up"

"But he kept eating!"

On Gammon's face there was a gradually darker expression, "I was hungry."

"Normally you of all people would think before doing something rash like that," she muttered, as slowly she coaxed buds to grow back. "Who do you think you are, that Master of the G—!"

Kneeling down, Gammon was plucking off the roses from the bottom of the bush, and chewing up the thorny stems as well.

This time, Ma didn't shout or push him away.

But only watched.


	2. Made

"Isn't it common sense to be vaccinated for Gula by this time in your life? How old are you, anyway? It should have been when you were a child."

Gammon licked his fingers, "Parents didn't want to spend the money."

"Idiot." watching the Waiter bring him more food, Ma only sighed, "But me, too. I should have anticipated a human getting infected when having to stay in this place. It's not a dangerous disease with the proper medicine, but I don't have it on hand."

In that small theater's kitchen, Gammon sat at a small table in the corner and ate whatever Waiter put in front of him. At that moment he looked up from a boiled rat and looked at the woman across from him. "Am I going to die?"

She readjusted her eyeglass. "It's nothing dramatic like that. As long as you keep yourself well fed and regulate your fever until I can obtain the medicine from Aceid."

"It's not in the next town over?"

"For a near-nonexistent disease like Gula, there's no reason for a small town doctor to stock up on its cure."

Gammon began to chew the rat, "Hum. Shouldn't you go now then?"

"I would, but I have a few things I wanted to do here before I go to such trouble."

"..."

"Don't look at me like that. As long as you continue to keep yourself from dying, you'll be alright by the time I come back with the medicine. After all, you should have some kind of defense system in your body."

"You're not making any sense..."

"Just keep eating and take some medicine so you don't die. Don't eat any bugs off the floor. I think I'll head out next morning."

When the rat was finished, the Waiter brought in a pitcher of water and Gammon took a deep breath, starting to drink in smaller sips. The sheen of sweat on his forehead was still there and to the touch his forehead was hot—not that there was anyone trying to feel his forehead.

Ma smiled and walked out of the room, leaving him with the words, "Don't die by the time I come visit you again."

Gammon raised a hand in recognition and then went back to the pitcher, pouring glass after glass and taking sip after sip.

For Ma, as she walked out of the theater, it was worthy of a good laugh. But as for the things she needed to do before leaving, that was a bit of a chore.

Really, for Gammon it wasn't anything worth getting offended over, because it was all for his sake, the things she was to do before venturing out into the human world again. She walked past the boundary of the theater, past the garden, and into the bloodstained boneyard where the one of the Masters lived—living as some people might not consider living.

_All the things that I do for my pawns..._

Such a long and wearying life; when she was so close now she couldn't afford to discard her available pieces—gears such as Gammon, who fell on to her lap when she least expected it. The unfortunate part of this was that when he was being endangered she would have to rely on the pointier pieces for keeping him in hand.

The Master was in the same state as ever; unlike a normal human, she didn't get sick and her clothes didn't tear. Her smooth skin was perfect, as was her delicate rose in her hair and sparkling, cruel eyes. From head to toe she was the color of dried blood under moonlight.

"Oh, do you need me for something, dear?" She was only having a snack—a bone that had been discarded long ago. For once, at this moment, she was eating less than someone else in the theater.

Ma smiled back. Their smiles both fell once met. "I wanted to ask for your…assistance in a certain matter. Your servants, are they around?"

"They're always around."

At her side were two figures who could have been children—the servants that never dwelled without their master. Yet it had been them who alerted Ma to the disturbance not so long ago. "Sorceress~"

"Hello Sorceress~"

And as Ma nodded in approval at their sudden arrival, their Master's smile returned and she spoke, "By your coming here, may I predict I'm going to have good news about that Gardener's imminent death?"

"No," and with that her smile slipped, "In fact, I wanted to ask a favor of you regarding him."

"I was upset to see him eating all the food that should be mine. I had hoped that the Master in the court would have had him killed for stealing by now."

"The Master wasn't told. She's a bit worn by now, let her sleep."

The two women stood looking at each other for a long period, where slowly the Master's countenance dropped and her lip curled further and further upward. Her smile was no longer that, but much more feral.

"...So, at any rate, I'm going out to get him some medicine before he eats us out of theater and home. I'd like to have some assistance, however. Those two servants of yours..."

"We're going on holiday?"

"It's like a holiday."

"We can bring back treats."

"And we can bring back a snack."

"For our master."

"Yes, yes, something like that," Ma purred, looking back at the Master of the Graveyard.

Her snarl relaxed and she spun her parasol, looking away from the sorceress. "Well…I guess in the end, it doesn't matter. Since he'll die one of these days, even if his infection won't do it."

The disheveled sorceress watched her pace back and forth, and then finally smiled as the two servants stepped to her side. "Yes, that's right. Let me just get my things, then, and I'll prolong his death for a little while."

When she had turned her back, she heard one high laugh from behind.  
"You should hurry up, when you go. If I get hungry enough, I might just take advantage of the opportunity and put an end to his sickness my own way."

Ma waved her hand and kept walking back to the Theater, back to her room. She had packing to do.


	3. By Someone

More than just eating them out of house and home, Gammon was beginning to drink them out of the forest too.

"I know you're sick and everything," Waiter said as he drank more and more water, "But don't you think you're being a bit of a pig? I thought Gula was you throw up a bit of blood and be sick for a couple months and then you die."

There was another big gulp before Gammon shook his head, running a hand through his oily hair. "Mmh. I'll be skin and bones if I don't keep eating. I'll burn up if I don't keep drinking."

"You sound creepy," she muttered with a wary eye at his feverish face. "Are you still you in all that sick?"

"Heh? Of course it's still me," he grumbled. "Can I have the peaches in the cupboard now?"

"Ewww they're all old and gross in a can, you don't want that," she snapped.  
He nibbled on the tip of his finger and watched her with narrowing eyes, sitting back in the chair. "Aww, yeah I do."

"Do not."

"Then get me something else," a low growl emitted from somewhere—it was possible that it was his stomach. Waiter wrinkled up her nose and simply sat down across from him on that little kitchen table, crossing her legs and affecting a bored expression.

Gammon put his head down on the table and sighed. "Why are you making this so difficult?"

"I'm bored of giving you food. What's the difference? You're not going to die just like that."

After a moment of staring, Gammon's head turned and looked over at an earwig crawling along the floor. He bit at one of his lips and chewed before returning to resting his head on the table. "...I don't feel good. I think I'm going to hurl blood."

"Of course you do, you've been eating for hours."

"Uughh..."

Waiter snorted and scooted back, watching him carefully. "…This isn't like you. Man up! You're our chore-man, not our guest!"

"Just stop it."

In the silence, Waiter's sneer dropped lower and lower until on her face was a neutral expression. She stood up, murmuring, "Well I'm going to go now. Have fun eating those bugs over there."

From somewhere else in the theater, the sound of a door slamming was heard. It made both of them twitch, but they each had an idea of who would be up and walking through doors. When Gear was alone and always in the clocktower, Ma was long gone, and the Master of the Court continued to sleep…

Waiter's eyes moved from the sound of the slam back to him, and then she began to turn with some semblance of her sneer.

"Wait," Gammon looked up. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What question?"

He folded his hands together and tried to sit up straight. "Maybe it's a favor…"

"Well whatever it is, what the hell is it?"

"Can you tell me what it was like before this theater? For you, I mean."

At that, she turned back. His eyes looked a little bit glazed over and the illness was still obvious on his face, but otherwise he didn't seem to be that out of control of himself. Her face assumed the sneer again, "You're asking me that? When have I ever answered any of those kinds of questions?"

Gammon smiled and put his head back down on the table, encircling it with his arms. "I never asked you that question before."

Before he knew it, she was sitting with him again. "So what makes today different?"

"I feel like vomiting any moment and I figure it can't get any worse where you're concerned."

She crossed her arms and also rested on the table, glaring at the top of Gammon's head while his muffled voice continued on, "You don't need to tell me a lot, but I know there must be something. I'm a curious person."

"Is it because Ma is gone?"

"Something like that."

"It's not just because of her that I wouldn't tell someone like you."

He peeked at her and licked at his thirsty lips. Waiter was half-tempted to reach over and knock over the half-empty pitcher in front of him before he could reach for the handle. Instead, she watched him pour himself a glass and sip quietly.

"Why do you always want to know these things? I saw your wall. It's like you're obsessed, you creepy old man."

"...Do you think your history isn't worth knowing?"

"It's not worth you knowing."

Gammon chuckled. He then picked up a bug and popped it into his mouth, before making a sickened face. Waiter started to laugh and he gagged, covering his mouth with one hand.

It took a while before her laughter subsided, and by then he had pressed himself tight to the table, shivering and making little gagging noises. Between them, then, was just that silence and that sound. "You're so insignificant compared to me. Your life and your understanding. There's no point to you knowing anything."

"Mmm..."

She stood up and brushed off her coat, picking at a stray speck of dirt—dirt that couldn't have been on her coat to begin with, as her clothes could never get dirty. "It's not like there was much of me me before this theater. I was...like all the rest of them, I was sleeping and I didn't know anything."

"You didn't know anything at all? You shouldn't defend a past so vigorously if it's no past."

"Well I do have a past. I have some memories." She looked around the small kitchen for the first time when they each heard more footsteps. Now, there was only someone else in this theater who walked quietly through the theater. "Let's talk somewhere else about it."

"Really?" Gammon's eyes peeked back up from the table.

"Oh, it's not like you'll remember it later. Just promise me you won't make any creepy notes on me like the others."

"...Deal."

She took his hand and dragged him to his feet. Then when the footsteps were gone, Gammon simply followed behind as she skirted around the hall and up the staircase.

Up, up, into the Clocktower.


	4. Who Otherwise

Extra clothes, extra socks, as much money as she had on hand, a train ticket, muzzles, harnesses, sandwiches, a ham wrapped in packaging, it seemed like it would be enough for a day. For herself, she'd also take a book—just something for the ride over to Aceid.

Of course she may need to spend most of this time watching over the two children—or things that looked like children—now walking at her side.

Exiting the theater, it wouldn't be too long a walk to reach the next town—as long as she knew where she was going in the forest, that is. For Ma, it was easiest to find her way out when the twins were taking her to her next destination, so she was only following them while she went along.

(It was almost too fast when the shade came away from her. "Ah…" It was sunny out, but it was hard to tell in the forest with such a thick gathering of trees. Especially in this direction, the animal path that wasn't blocked by religious fanatics or checkpoints.

Ma brushed off her skirt before continuing to walk; it was naturally very easy for the twins to make their way out of the forest, given their true nature. Far ahead, very far, she could almost see the lights of Aceid twinkling on the growing skyline. Yes, it was becoming quite a bustling place compared to how she first knew it. And surely it would have the right ingredients she'd need. It wouldn't do for her Gardener to die just yet, after all.

But first, and a little less distance ahead, they would reach the next town—what was once known as Yatski village, but it was hardly a village anymore.

With a sigh she moved faster after the twins. "Careful. People will think we're at least a little strange, it's best not to draw attention to ourselves."

"Sorceress?"

"Sorceress?"

They looked back at her as though uncomprehending. But these two ghouls were very out of the ordinary. Their pale skin and bright eyes had an almost ghostly quality, and while their matching clothes weren't disheveled, they did always seem to have smatterings of darkness on them somewhere. It was, perhaps, an overall aura…of evil.

But their creepy skipping and manic expressions were the biggest problem.  
"Let's try this." Ma grabbed their hands like children, and then with her walking in front she dragged them along. "You don't look as bad if the focus is me."

"I think the sorceress is just"

"Worried about her own appearance~"

"No, that's not it-"

"Vain sorceress~"

"Vain sorceress~"

"Stop calling me a sorceress! What if someone were to hear from the town?"

The twins only giggled and left her hands, continuing to skip forward from there. Ma sighed and followed; far from Grave, they were even more difficult than before.

Come to think of it, the farther they were from their Master, the more ghostlike those two appeared. It would be a real problem if someone were to notice them like that. Ma would have to find something to cover them up when they made it into town, and quickly.

Luckily it seemed that, at least tonight, no one was engaging in any sort of Yatski nightlife.) The people who walked the streets of the little town when it was so dark were few, with even the lamplights a little dim overhead compared to the likes of Aceid. The two servants of the Master of the Graveyard didn't stick out too badly under this bad lighting. It would be a different matter in the bright lights of an Aceid pharmacy, however.

Drawing those two back close to her as though she were indeed their mother, Ma slipped the three of them inside a clothing store and relaxed. She pulled out her pipe and lit it while the twins began to wander aimlessly, rifling through the clothes.

"Excuse me, miss? There's no smoking here."

The soft lips of the sorceress turned up in a small smile. "Isn't there? I would stop, but my doctor suggested that for my health I smoke. I have an extremely agitated disposition and it helps tremendously to breathe it in."

The man at the counter, who seemed to be all alone in the store, looked uneasy but didn't speak to her further.

Puffing away on her pipe, Ma walked slowly through the rows of coats and cloaks. The twins looked downright sickly now from where she stood; it was their jerking movements through the racks that caused the man in the shop to look nervous.

On second thought, it would probably be good not to bring them into the pharmacy with her when she went to Aceid. However, picking out two long hooded black coats, the collars puffed with furs, Ma thought it would be okay for them to wait for her just outside.

She approached the counter and the young man nodded at her purchases, relieved she seemed done so quickly. "Is that all, miss?"

"You two! Calm down!" Ma called to the twins—before they could tear anything.

Then, she smiled, "Yes. Just these two. What is the price?"

He told her.

Her smile turned into a frown. "I can't spend that much. I have something important I need to buy with my money later on. Can't you lower the price for me?"

Once, her beautiful face and exotic appearance got her anything she wanted, but this nervous young man only stammered, "No. If—my mother comes back and sees I've given someone a discount, she would be so upset with me—I am sorry-"

Ma now blew out a puff of smoke by his hands and she looked down at the counter, hair falling over her face as though disappointed. "Well—it's no big deal."

She backed away. "My 'twins' will want their coats all the same."

The man was reflected in the eyes of servants, as their grinning faces loomed closer and closer to the counter. At first confused, and then uneasy at their ominous appearance, his face gradually became awash with fear as they came right to his face. And he screamed.

The twins vaulted over the counter and tackled him to the ground. As Ma began bundling up the coats, the man behind the counter was screaming, blood spilling over the tile floor.

It only took a few minutes for him to die. But by then the two of them were riled and began to destroy the whole shop. Racks of coats fell to the ground, fabrics were thrown everywhere and torn up by their claws, the cash register was tossed into the backroom, and the blood that was spilled was spread until it flecked the walls.

Ma went into the back room and picked up the spilled Evus.

"This turned out well for us, wouldn't you say Grave? Now we're all ready for the trip to Aceid."

The twins, who at last returned to eating the man on the floor, gave no answer.


	5. Would Not

It wasn't often that Gammon went into the Clocktower of this theater. He didn't exactly get along with Gear; to his knowledge, Gear didn't get along well with anyone.

On the other hand, it was this place that Waiter chose to give him this little interview, and she was the one dragging him up the stairs and into this little,crowded room.

Although uneasy to be here again, he didn't complain. With the ticking of the tower's clock booming everywhere but inside this room, it was an ideal place to avoid eavesdropping. Gammon studied the mechanism for any sign of Gear, but he seemed to be in some other part of the Clocktower for now.

"Now that you've taken such extremes, can we talk?"

Gammon was already starting to feel weak from walking up so many stairs. Even as he spoke his fever flared back up and he began to tremble.

From a table, Waiter handed him a glass of water and two sausages that he ate with relish. "I guess that depends on you, doesn't it?"

"Huh?"

"You idiot, you're the one that wants to ask me things, right? So ask!"

Gammon screwed up his face.

Ah, he didn't have his note-taking materials with him…

"Well...I only asked one question. Tell me about your past."

Waiter sighed. "Can you tell me why you want to know, first? You're always taking down information you don't need to know and it's annoying."

"I asked first."

"I'll leave."

With a huff, Waiter had started to move back to her feet. Gammon reached out a hand and grabbed for her, but missed his mark in his fevered state. She took a step back regardless, giving him a sneer.

Gammon huffed and faced the floor for several seconds. "...Okay. I'll tell you a little."

"Well?"

Gammon shook his head. "It's so I don't go insane. Even though I try, I can't stop having these dreams. If I'm going to have these dreams, then I may as well write them down. If I'm going to write those down, shouldn't I know what they mean?"

Waiter only stood back and blinked at him. It was a surprisingly simple answer coming from him. "So what you're saying is, if you hadn't gotten these Purple Dreams you wouldn't have any interest in history?"

Gammon nodded; well, he looked like he wasn't strong enough to give a more complex or mysterious reply. "Yes, that's what it means. Or maybe I would have it...but not like this. Can I start asking you the questions now?"

"Well...like what kind did you have? Does this mean that you've been having dreams about me too? Ewww, what did I do in them?"

"Concentrate."

"Why should I? It's what you want, not me."

Shuddering there, with a mouth full of food, Gammon paused and looked her over. This young girl who probably wasn't so young, even though she certainly acted like it. "Then, my first question is to ask you why you're so secretive about your past. What's the harm in me knowing a few details?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because if you know them, who knows who you'll tell them to or use them for. Do you know, the more someone understands about us, the harder it is for us to be free?"

"Free?"

"..."

Gammon coughed and took another bite. "What are you?"

At this, on Waiter's face there was only a small smile. A grisly looking smile. "Well...I can't tell you that. But when you call us 'monsters' or demons, you're not wrong. Only…it's that some of us are attached to the theater you know?"

"Huh? You mean like how Gear has to stay in the Clocktower?"

There was a shifting of shadows from above, and Gammon gave a little shiver. He could tell that such a figure was watching them now, perhaps drawn to the mention of his name. Keeping his eyes downcast, he didn't feel very much like acknowledging his presence.

Waiter did look up, and for a moment she smiled and waved. "It's something like that. We didn't get brought into this world on accident, but it's because of the theater that we're here. Some of us can leave if we wish, but..."

Gammon coughed and swallowed down what he coughed. Waiter grimaced at him and he wiped his face, turning red. Quietly, he asked, "How were you created?"

"Ma knows about that. It was different for each of us."

"You're an 'awakened vessel' of the mirror…right? So, does that mean that you're the demon—?"

Waiter came back down on her knees in front of the sick gardener and faced him squarely, eyes narrowing. "I am not the Demon of Pride."

His eyes widened. "Oh?"

Waiter jerked her thumb up to the silent one who was hovering so close above them, "Gear, he's not the Demon of Greed either."

"You don't have to tell him that..." his low voice came down through the cogs.

"If you're not the demons, then why are you considered 'awakened vessels' for the vessels the demons inhabited?" On Gammon's lips was a faint smile, as he glanced between the two of them and their serious faces.

"Graveyard is the Demon of Gluttony, though," she continued on, airily.

"...What about Sloth?"

"Hahahahahahahaha!" Waiter stood up and jumped around the room, laughing brokenly, startling him and making Gammon's head spin. Ah, just seeing someone else move was making him woozy, there was no way that he could get down the stairs again with this fever.

"Master of the Court is something else. You could say, in a way, she's 'Sloth' kinda," sliding back into place in front of Gammon, there was a merry expression on her face now. Even though up above, Gear was moving back and forth pensively.

In such a good mood, maybe now he could ask the thing he really wanted to ask. Gammon licked his fingers—ah, all his food was gone—and then swallowed again. "Then, it seems each case is different. In yours...as I was asking you before...what was it like before the theater?"

The merriment vanished. "It was cold."

"Cold?"

She stopped and looked up above, but Gear gave no answer or inclination to show he cared. She drew her lips into a tight line, and then studied Gammon's face for a moment. She relaxed. "It was like being in a cold tube, wet and shivering. I was discarded in that cold place with bright lights, and that's the strongest thing I remember. And that cold and bright place was lonely."

Lonely?

For a demon, that would be an unusual thing to say. Gammon was reasonably sure that, even though she was such an arrogant child, she wasn't the demon as she said. But lonely…what kind of person would be lonely? Hadn't he already asked that?

"Yeah, it was pretty bad. It was a situation where I didn't have anyone, and you can tell why I don't like it right? It was like I failed my purpose somehow. So, I was a failure and I was lonely."

"Lonely, because you're missing your…"

Her eyes snapped towards him. "Missing my what?"

"There was supposed to be two of you, wasn't there?" The Master of the Court's lullaby came back to his mind—a lullaby that at first she had seemed to be singing to herself. But, in fact...

Yes, he was making her very agitated. Her face turned down into a fierce scowl and Gear started climbing away as she said, "Why do you say that?"

"Because those twins...who look like you, they're also..."

"Not always! Sometimes someone who expected twins gets just one child."

"So...you're an only child who didn't want to be an only child? Is that really all there was to it?" Gammon remembered Nyoze saying that such people didn't realize what they were getting into to get a sibling. He didn't think it was very funny back then. But as he gave that speculation, her face was still blank.

It was by her reaction that he was discovering something. "...Or was it that you weren't _supposed_ to be...one child..."

"I'm not even a child! What are you getting at?"

There was blackness creeping on Gammon's blurry vision, and he cleared his throat as if only thinking to himself, "Well, it's usually having twins itself that's irregular for expectant mothers."

"What are you getting at, dumbass?"

"But if only one child was born...is the other one nonexistent or is it more like missing...?"

She kicked his arm and Gammon let out a yelp, coughing suddenly as though he had been holding it all back. Waiter bent down, leaning heavily on her legs, and her eyes had suddenly gone wide as he wobbled. "Are you dying? I didn't hit you that hard."

"No..." Gammon came forward onto his elbows, trembling all over. "That's not...eugh..."

"Hey, we're going to carry you downstairs now okay? You don't look so good, I mean worse than before."

Weakly, seeing the shadow of Gear descended down to them, Gammon nodded. He already was having trouble keeping himself coherent. As he started to lose again to the fever, though, he did murmur something,

"I...understand you better...now...I think."


	6. Have

As for Ma, Aceid was very different from what she remembered.

For one thing, it was surprising—if not in its way satisfying—to see posters of someone who was once close to her plastered wherever possible in the most decorative color-based lithography. Such posters were everywhere, spouting political propaganda on the storefronts that matched the propaganda in the newspapers.

It was interesting indeed to hear this person's name being spoken by others around her in whispers or brazen statements.

The person that was once close to Ma had a new title now, "Führer".

The Führer of Elphegort, so they were saying, was going to hold a speech tomorrow in the square to recognize her so-called election as the head of the country. It was clear that she held power, however, not by election but by dictatorship. So such a speech, thanking the people and laying out promises, really held no purpose other than to reassure those who were afraid of the atmosphere of political extremism.

Ma did regret that she wouldn't be sticking around long enough to hear her speech. But she didn't know how long she had, both before she lost her most informative pawn and before she was discovered as a suspicious person with two ghouls like these.

The twins were looking pale and ghost-like, more than ever before. Eating that man back in Yatski could only sustain them for so long, and now that the sun was well up in the sky it was going to be difficult to let them eat anyone else. They walked in front of her with swinging arms and legs, dancing as though broken and eyeing all the people who passed them on the street. In their hoods and coats they looked like little ruffians; Ma stuck close by them and waved cheerily at the suspicious people, a typical mother figure.

Now, the nearest pharmacy...

If they were indoors, it might be good to get someone alone they could eat. But for now, she needed to get the medicine before she forgot. The purse of Evus jingled in her hand and she scanned each building for a pharmacy symbol.

Medicine for over the counter usage was far more easily obtained than it was in the past—cough medicine, energy tonics, diet pills and sleeping medication were all easily sold. Curatives for deadly diseases like Gula should also be easy to obtain, even without a prescription.

If not, she supposed she would have to get creative. It was for that purpose that Ma brought the Master of the Graveyard's twins, after all. She would, for that, pick a smaller pharmacy so that she wouldn't have so many staff members to deal with.

There was a street performer on the corner who spoke and moved like an automaton, their face and body painted silver and copper like a machine. Ma placed a coin into his box and watched him jitter and throw his limbs around with mild fascination.

From nearby someone said, "If we could get these obstructive people off the street we might all be able to focus on strengthening our nation."

Ah, more gossip. Ma waved at the two and continued walking.

But soon enough, she made her way to a small shop with a green cross on its window; this was a place where its proprietor sold curatives and medicines…a small, humble spot run by only two people, to think from looking through the window.

Perfect.

That would be the answer to all her problems; Ma stepped into the store with a quiet ring of the bell, beckoning the twins in after her before they could get too far ahead. "This way now, dears."

The young women polishing the counter looked up and smiled, one adjusting the little glasses on her nose. "Greetings to you miss, isn't it a lovely day?"

Ma nodded, stepping closer and drawing her purse of Evus close. "It is, it is. I and my children were out on a walk when I remembered that I needed to make an important purchase from this store."

"Ah, your...children...?" By now, the twins stood hunched behind Ma and plucked at her sleeves like a shy pair, their faces concealed in the shadow of the hoods so that no one could see their hungry smiles. "What lovely children you have, they seem to be growing up fast."

"For me, it seems like they'll be children forever." Ma patted them both on the head and they flinched; pulling her sleeves free, she approached the counter and lay lackadaisically upon it with an easy smile. "But they're not important for the moment; I need a medicine for my brother, he's gotten very sick and I'm worried he might have a hard time making it to work."

"Oh, of course," the girl with the glasses stood at attention. The other one beside her only looked blankly ahead; it seemed she was the assistant. "What medicine is that? And do you have a doctor's note?"

"I...don't have a doctor's note. He's only sick with Gula, the poor thing. I don't need a diagnosis for that, surely?"

But the woman at the counter shifted uncomfortably. "I'm afraid there's been a trend of teenagers who take the cure for recreational usage."

"Really? Such bad seeds."

"Yes," she cleared her throat and glanced at the twins, who stood stock still and trembled with hunger. "So I'm afraid I need a doctor's note before handing any medicine to you."

Ma was bending over and looking at all the bottles and pills on display under the counter. "Do you keep it in this glass case? Out in the open..."

"Miss, I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard to have a physician examine your brother, if you ask them to make a house call."

"...I don't have time to do that." She glanced up at them. Her expression was still languid and easy, just as before, but something had changed in it. A glint came into her eye as she smiled up at them. "My apologies."

"Well, miss, we could get into trouble if we sold you medicinal drugs and they ended up in the hands of—"

"For you to accuse me so, how bad of you!" She flicked her giant sleeve, straightening up. Still, she was smiling. "Even so, it just makes it easier. Since, when I'm able to save money like this, I can take the train home and make it back more quickly than expected."

"I don't understand you," murmured the woman as she wiped at her glasses.

Ma stepped back and the twins ran forward.

Outside, someone might look in and see the sudden sprays of blood or hear the screams that were emanating from the store. But with a flick of her finger, the pharmacy around Ma went silent and the windows became dark. No one would notice anything until they were long gone, and by then the bodies will be entirely gone.

As for Ma, she stepped around the spreading chunks of person and the boisterous twins to the glass case; slipping inside one gloved hand, she selected the bottle of tonic for Gula and moved back, out of danger of getting blood on her clothes. "There we are. Hmmm…."

Moving back, she picked a few more bottles from off the glass shelf as well. "I think I can find some use for these two."

From the twins there was no answer but the song of their satisfied moans and groans while they ate; gradually color and vibrancy was returning to their forms, although this too was only temporary. It was just as well that they don't pay attention; Ma thought it better that Grave not know everything she took this day. She slipped all the pills and the tonic into her bag and clapped, alerting the children with blood dripping down their chins. "It's time for us to go, you two. Finish up quickly."

"Yes, Sorceress~"

"Yes, Sorceress~"

Outside, it seemed there was a commotion unlike what was happening in the pharmacy. It was a crowd of people swarming around a man in an official-looking uniform.

Seeing the man, whose outfit she recognized as belonging to the Tasan Party, Ma stopped in her tracks. Her eyes grew wide and she too took a few steps into the crowd. "Oh...?"

Through a microphone he was shouting ecstatically, and there were plenty of people gathered around him to listen.

"...That now is the time to serve your country, for the glory of Elphegort! We, who over time were wronged by the State and by Lucifenia, will take back our power in Evillious! Send your husbands and your sons, send your brothers and your lovers, and send every able man to the front lines in the name of our great Führer! Women who can fight, you too come with us to wage our battle against Lucifenia! It will become a total war!"

Total war?

Beside her, the twins were gradually getting excited over the fervor in this man's voice and started to cry out with the other people, jumping up and down.  
Ma blinked. Their "great Führer" was getting very busy these days.

However, what this man said was also a problem for her. Even if deep in her heart Ma felt something like pride for that child, it was also uneasiness.

After all, wasn't the Theater where they lived on the path to Lucifenia?

Right in forest they would surely invade.

In the stream of cheers and propaganda, Ma quietly left that scene. One thing at a time, one thing at a time. She had a train to catch, and quickly.


	7. Spoken

Although neatly laid on the bedsheet, Gammon refused to stay still. His body was becoming wracked with coughs that gradually turned redder on his hands. The rag he used to wipe his aching fingers was gradually soaked with blood.

It was as if his stomach was eating itself and realizing every other moment that it was a bad idea. But Gammon only looked warily at the uncooked, dead rat that Waiter kept holding out to him, telling him to eat.

"Come on, I skinned it for you even! Just take a bite, it's not going to kill you any more than your bloody self is in danger of dying already!" She waved it in front of his face and Gammon groaned.

Gear by now was nowhere in sight; he was unable to leave the clocktower, so he could only carry him down part of the way. Gammon, in that moment of partial consciousness, didn't realize that Waiter was so strong—much stronger than a girl of her age and size seemed capable of.

Someone like Chartette Langley of the skeptically believed history.

Or, maybe it was to do with what she "was."

The fit of rejecting blood passed again as it had been over a period of several hours; weak and pale, Gammon lay back down, rat uneaten and let his hands hang off the blood and drip. "I haven't felt this bad since I was six."

"What happened when you were six?"

"…I was sick."

Waiter sat down beside the bed, her expression a hard line again. Her face, rather than being pale, was a slightly flushed color of pink. She didn't say a word, but Gammon's eyes remained open and he watched her. The girl looked over and spotted this, and began to squirm.

"…."

"…."

"What is it?"

Gammon's body shuddered. "I know your secret."

Now, all the color drained from her face too. "You do not."

He looked at the rough ceiling and shuddered again; he could feel bile rising in his throat; it was painful. His stomach felt so empty, but the thought of eating just to throw it back up made him dizzy. "My dreams take me to ancient places. I can't understand them fully, but your situation…"

"Then your dream is wrong and you're mistaking me for someone else. I didn't even tell you everything, you're just making guesses."

"Naah…you're the same as that person…there's no mistaking it…"

The door opened and Waiter jumped to her feet.

Walking in through the door, Graveyard's long dress began to sweep the dust on the ground and her blood-thirsty face shown brightly beyond the veil she wore on her hat.

Waiter saw her first, and Gammon saw Waiter's expression. "What…?"

"The Gardener doesn't look so good, does he?" Now Gammon had his turn to make that same expression, and soon enough she came into his view beside the bed. As though she started kneeling at his side, her beautiful inhuman face loomed ever closer to his, and he could see clearly that toothy grin on her face.

"Yeah, he looks bad but I guess Ma is going to be back soon with the medicine. It's been over a day right?"

Was that how long it had been? Gammon wasn't keeping track of time very well. His feverish gaze remained on Grave, who reached out a slender hand and grasped one of his. His ragged breathing began to speed up.

"Yes, he looks very bad," murmured the monster of the graveyard. She splayed his fingers with both hands and started to lick the blood off of them while Gammon watched with red-rimmed eyes. "In fact, knowing Gula as I do, I might say his death is imminent."

"He's not that bad, Ma said as long as he's well fed and we watch him he won't die."

"But then," her dark eyes sparkled, "He hasn't been eating has he?" From licking, she progressed to nibbling on his fingers and Gammon's white face grew whiter. "That's not good for a sick patient, if they won't keep up their strength."

Waiter began to shift back and forth on her feet. "Ummm…"

"Gardener, did I tell you that you're very delicious even when you're sick?"

Gammon didn't speak, but only took deep breaths and kept his eyes on his hand. The only thing he could think of was the sensation of those sharp teeth raking against his skin, a rough and long tongue leaving saliva between fingers.

Then there was Grave's voice, continuing on beside him between licks and nibbles, "Your heartbeat, too, is moving too hard. You're going to wear yourself out that way. Very soon, you might not even be able to use these limbs or that heart."

"St—!" Gammon's body convulsed, and his hand ripped out of her grasp. He sat up, suddenly, on the bed and started coughing harder than he ever had before. Blood streamed from his open mouth, although he tried instinctively to cover it; Waiter took several steps back and let out a yelp of disgust.

If it disrupted Grave's plan to slowly eat his hand off, Gammon didn't mind the painful coughs, the deep retching and the mess he was making. But at the end of it, as he struggled for breath, he heard Grave say, "You see!? He surely doesn't have long to live! It'd be a shame if he we left him to suffer like this, don't you say?"

"Don't do it!"

"Ma won't mind one more dead human…"

Her hands were on him again. Her teeth were moving on his ear.

"Gammon!"

Gammon wondered if he might have been hallucinating Waiter pulling on Grave's hair—he already was unable to view it clearly as another set of coughs threw him into spasms.

It was ridiculous to think of Waiter and Grave attacking each other, but from his blurry peripheral vision he could see Grave throwing that girl to the ground regardless. "Don't make me eat you too, girl!"

"MA'S GONNA BE REALLY MAD."

"He's practically dead already!"

Shivering, Gammon's eyes closed again.

He didn't know whether or not the next time they opened, they would be staring down into the Master of the Graveyard's stomach.

Then the door opened again.


	8. Up

In that moment, Ma had stepped into the room and seen those two fighting while Gammon shuddered on the bed. Her eyebrows had risen and she set down her purse on the floor with a rattling noise.

The fighting didn't stop; Waiter had noticed her entry, and the Master of the Graveyard had noticed her entry, but neither could stop. Graveyard was chomping on Waiter's fingers, and the girl pulled on her short brown hair as she screamed in pain.

What occurred was, at last, Waiter flew and crashed into a cluttered wall. Papers and pins fluttered and rolled to the floor around her, though to look at Waiter she seemed to be unhurt.

Then, retaining her same dignity and unruffled appearance, Graveyard turned to Ma with a dark scowl on her face. "Ah, if you had arrived half an hour later I would have felt justified to devour him."

Gammon's eyes flickered slowly towards her; Ma met them and stared back as if indifferent.

"Even now it seems you feel justified in doing that," she noted; the Master was still standing by Gammon's bed, as if ready to snatch him off it and gobble him up.

"Well, I was going to have already eaten him if Waiter wasn't here."

"Is that so?"

Waiter had run to resume her place at Gammon's side, her face drawn into a sharp pouting expression and her hands curled into fists. She didn't say anything, but she did stare down at the two other women as though daring them to. Ma smiled and waved at her.

"Regardless of that, if you'll take her now I can continue with my meal," the master muttered as she fixed her eyes back on Gammon. "So although I thank you for coming in with medicine in hand, I refuse to wait now that I have his taste on my tongue."

"I can't allow that."

"Oho ho, and what will you do about it?"

"I'm simply not going to let you do it."

The delicate features of Graveyard's face twisted, and she looked at her opposite with the darkest of frowns on her face.

From just outside, the creaking of graves alerted them to something's movement.

In the graveyard was a clattering of bones, corpses that were half-eaten and hollow-eyed dragging themselves across the fresh dirt. Waiter saw them first and then Ma turned calmly with another flick of her wrist. In her own hands was a bright, bright flame, which grew fierce and shot out the door, enveloping the shambling bodies.

There came a faint sound of screams from rotted vocal chords, but unlike a group of humans the dead didn't raise a fuss at the maelstrom of fire, but only lay still and burned.

Ma sighed with satisfaction, but Grave wasn't finished. Shadows grabbed at the sorceress, clinging to her arms and legs, and pulled. Ma swept backwards and hissed; as if twisting to get free, she flung her arm back. Out of her palm shot another fire.

The flame snuffed out; snarling, Grave moved faster than was possible in her big dress, slamming into the sorceress and knocking her back. With her unsteadied, Grave threw Ma to the other side of the room like a piece of wood, and she hit the opposite wall with a crack.

"Hey!" Waiter ran to the crumpled woman and grabbed her hand.

By the bed, Grave's attention was again drawn to her next meal. "After all, a visitor will surely come by later on. And when they do, you can make them into the new Gardener…" She stroked Gammon's head; in that moment, when she smiled, her mouth was full of razor-sharp teeth. "And I bet they will also taste just as good."

"Stop. I'm not going to allow this."

The sorceress was back on her feet. Around Grave, a strong wind blew that didn't come from the still night outside. Ma's eyes were glowing brightly, and her hands hardened into fists.

Between the two women there was only silence, with Waiter in the corner. Grave's shadows remained around Ma while Ma's eyes and the wind bored into Grave.

Then, the shadows retracted.

Grave laughed, "If you're willing to put yourself in harm's way just for him…? Well, it's alright. I'm willing to leave him be right now. Even though it makes me so disappointed…"

Ma regained her composure, but didn't speak. Gammon relaxed back against the bed with a long shudder.

"Even so, because I'm disappointed…" Grave took the Gardener's hand for another time. "I'll take this compensation as punishment."

As Ma and Waiter watched, and Gammon's eyes became as big as saucers, Grave put his ring finger into her mouth.

Her long tongue lapped at the webbing at its base.

Then down her jaws came with a snap.


	9. At All

"Take a full spoonful every day and you'll slowly but surely get better."

Gammon mumbled into the spoon, "Thanks."

"Get better quickly, or nothing will get done around here. Waiter, too, is having to work harder than usual."

"That's right!" Gammon groaned to hear her voice; with the medicine taken, he only wanted to sleep now. Even so, she kept going, "And after all you owe me a favor now since I worked so hard to save your life! Isn't it two times now that I did that this year alone…?"

"Yeah."

"So you better be grateful to me, Gardener!"

"Fine." Gammon rolled over and pulled the blanket up over his head with his good hand. The other was still bandaged, looking red and bruised, and the bandage slowly staining. It was a long way from healing over, even to look at it was painful.

Luckily, Ma had brought pain medication. Gammon was starting to feel the effects of that too.

At some point the door had closed and it looked like she already left the room. Gammon felt a pressure grow on the edge of his bed and he rolled back over with the little of his waning energy left. Waiter was sitting on it. "...What."

She looked at him. "Oh? Aren't I a good nurse, waiting until you get to sleep?"

Gammon rolled back over.

At that, Waiter gave a small sigh, "Okay, so, Gammon—"

"Mmghm."

"You remember that talk we had earlier?"

"Mmm."

She stood back up, playing with her fingers. "You're not going to tell Ma right?"

"Tell Ma what."

She scowled, "That I'm actually the—oh, do you even remember?"

"Going to sleep now."

Her scowl deepened, and Waiter slammed her hand on the bed, "Well you better not tell anybody! I hope you don't have any dreams from now on!"

"'Night."

Waiter expelled a breath of air and kicked the floor. "Hmph. Night!"

But by then, Gammon was already dreaming.


End file.
